For an unfamily chantant Noël
a cello is a chamber full of silk cotton
bow down alley of lime trees let my children pass
frightful with sweetness tilleul ombrageux unborn
undouen children pass you are the Christmas blossom
laid like guipure on the Savannah you picnic
thoughtfully on dark red sorrel, fallen sweat bands,
dark chocolate coated leaf cutter ants night picks up
flambeaux to stay awake from you, O my children,
but I tell you, under every tree is your space,
under the grass the water reservoir is yours,
your dreams pass lisping into it when speechmakers
call on ancestors oh that isn’t you, little ones,
never-was, little piping ones, oh no, you are
the cough in an altar-boy’s throat are the scrape of shoes
being tied mid-run come eat a bench drink an owl